


Clear and Birthday Present Danger

by an_ardent_rain



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_ardent_rain/pseuds/an_ardent_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Answering Malory's call was not her first mistake, Lana realizes.  It was going on the mission <i>at all</i>.  Distract Archer, they said.  It's a surprise party, they said.  It's a disaster, and Lana's going to shoot someone.  It's probably going to be Archer.  And it's probably going to be a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clear and Birthday Present Danger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Diaphenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/gifts).



> Warnings: some bad language, heavy drinking, recreational drug use, one off-screen sexual encounter where all parties are consenting but not sober (Lana/Archer/male OC) - nothing outside the bounds of what you'd find in the show, though
> 
> I had every intention of writing the "pretend married" trope, but somehow I wound up with something with almost no plot and probably less substance. It was really fun to write, though, and even though I was on kind of a tight schedule I feel like I did an adequate job replicating some of the show's humor. Or at least the character's voices. Or maybe at least kind of Lana's voice.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it! Also, the title is intentionally terrible because it made me cackle when I thought of it, and it's just so, so bad I really couldn't resist. For that I must apologize. And also maybe laugh about it some more.

Lana doesn't look at her phone before she answers it. This is her _first_ mistake of the mission. "This is - "

"Lana!" Malory screeches through the line, her voice high and strained. Lana squeezes her eyes shut and pulls the phone away from her ear, clutching tight and hoping she doesn't break it. "Where are you?" she hisses, "you're late. You were supposed to be at the meet twenty minutes ago and Sterling - "

"Is _fine_ ," Lana says flatly, glancing over to the other side of the limo. "And we're almost there."

She barely moves, but Archer notices anyway. "Who's there, Lana?" he asks, leaning over towards her. The expensive sunglasses he's wearing - inside the car, for Chrissakes, Lana thinks - are hanging crooked on his face and the bottle in his hand has spilled about a quarter of its contents onto his shirt. "Mother?" He hiccups. "Is that you, mother?" He wobbles further towards Lana and grabs at her phone. His aim is terrible and he nearly grabs her breast instead. "I'm not going to complete your stupid mission mother," he says, loudly enough for Mallory to hear, crowing obnoxiously at Lana, the upper half of his body swaying. "I'm a spy. A _spy_ , mother, not some rent-a-cop bodyguard."

Malory responds immediately, but Lana pulls the phone an arm's length away from herself so she doesn't have to hear. "Nope," she says, handing the phone to Archer. "Not gonna deal with this." It _is_ a stupid mission, and if they weren't trying to distract him from the surprise party Mallory was planning there was no way in hell she would have agreed to it. As it is, though...

The Archers are yelling at each over through the phone, so she pulls out headphones and a magazine. Malory is strung out and in a terrible mood, and Archer's not even on the same continent as sober. Lana sighs and spends the rest of the ride contemplating all the ways she and a flame thrower could ruin Archer's precious turtlenecks.

* * *

They arrive at their destination soon after that, both unharmed - through a complete lack of effort on Archer's part, of course, since after he was done talking to his mother he threw her goddamn phone _out of the window_. It was ISIS-issued, yes, but that's really not the point, and birthday boy or not Lana is about to pump his sorry ass full of lead.

"Lana, I already apologized," he says, "I'm sorry." He does not sound sorry at all, and Lana takes his drink away. "Hey," he says, trying to grab it back. "That's mine. I deserve that, Lana, it's my birthday and that is exceptional scotch."

"You don't get to cry just because mommy forgot your birthday," she says, sitting down next to him. He tries to get his drink back and Lana pours it out onto the floor. He starts to protest but she whacks his forehead with the heel of her hand. He blinks at her, disoriented, and Lana stands. "Give me your phone."

"That's incredibly unprofessional, Lana, my phone is work issued and you already lost yours. I don't know if I can trust you."

"Jesus Christ, Archer, just give me your phone." He rolls his eyes and mumbles something, but he complies. She steps away from the bar and calls Cyril.

"Lana? Is everything - "

"When are we supposed to meet the guy, Cyril? I am this close to flaying this idiot alive. He's drunk off his ass again and he won't stop whining about his birthday. His party better be worth it for his and Malory's sake."

Cyril's silent for a second before he starts laughing nervously. "The party? It's going fine," he says. "No problems here! No, uh... no problems at all."

Lana holds the phone tighter. "Cyril," she bites out. "What is going on." Her hands are beautiful and feminine and very normal sized, but if someone doesn't take charge of this operation soon she is going to crush one of these phones into tiny little pieces.

"W-well... Pam and Malory got into a fight because Pam hired strippers. Or... the wrong strippers, I'm not really sure. They seem like decent ladies either way. And then something happened to the cake so we had to order another one. And it's custom made so it's taking a little while."

The first cake had been of Malory's face with "I Love You Sterling" written across the bottom, so even with the delay Lana finds it hard to be disappointed about that. She sighs and rubs her temple. "I left him at the bar so I have to go make sure he's still conscious. Where is this guy we're supposed to meet?"

"He should be there," Cyril says, "just give him another minute. I'll call his manager."

"Great," Lana says. "Fine." 

"You know if Archer is being difficult, you can always just give him whatever it was that Kreiger made. He said it would 'really relax you'." 

"He's impossible to deal with when he's drunk," she says. "We'll save drugging him for a last resort." Cyril starts to say something else, but she hangs up.

Archer is still upright when she walks back to him - which she counts as a win - and he's talking to a dark-skinned man wearing a neat, button down shirt and jeans. "I found him, Lana," Archer slurs. "I'm sorry that I'm such a better spy than you." He grins at her, toothy and a little wild, and Lana pops him in the mouth. He grunts and falls off his barstool.

The man beside him's eyebrows rise halfway up his forehead. "Impressive," he says.

"Lana Kane," she says, extending a hand towards him. He accepts and shakes it firmly.

"ISIS?" he asks. She nods. "Great to meet you. I'm Mista Nastee."

* * *

Answering Malory's call was not her first mistake, Lana realizes. It was going on the mission _at all_.

"So you have an MBA from Harvard," she says, "but... what? You just jumped into the gangsta rap game for shits and giggles?"

Terrence - the real name of the illustrious Mista Nastee - shrugs. "It's lucrative," he says. "A friend and I decided it would be a worthwhile venture. He was going to be the performer and I would manage everything from behind the scenes, but he just wasn't charismatic enough - he got stage fright. So now he writes all the songs and I perform them."

"And why do you need bodyguards?" Lana asks. They're in his home - and it's not so much _nice_ as it is palatial. "Your security here is great." 

"We have a backer. Someone who... thinks of himself as an entrepreneur. He gives us money and we produce records he enjoys. And my partner may also throw in a line or two about our associate's _other_ business ventures here and there. It's helped us become more successful, certainly, but it's also garnered some unwanted attention from his competitors."

Lana stares at him for half a second. "So drug lords."

He looks like he's about to argue for about half a second before he gives and just nods. "Yeah," he says. "Pretty much drug lords."

Lana blows out a long stream of air.

They're sitting out by the pool, dressed to swim, with a crowd of other guests and people dressed like what Lana assumes are servants milling about. How and why Malory managed to get them this gig Lana has no idea, but Terrence's security is top rate. _Fantastic_ even, she hasn't found a weak spot yet and she's been looking. It is incredibly nice, though, so there's that. The food is phenomenal, there are plush, velvety towels, and even though Lana doesn't _really_ care about the decor, the decorator's still a genius. It's almost enough to forget about 

"Archer!" Lana yells, kicking at him from her lounger. "What the hell are you doing?" 

He'd been in the chair beside her, eating gummi bears out of a champagne flute and she'd thought that would keep his attention long enough for her to have an actual conversation without having to babysit him. Clearly, she was wrong. 

He looks up from where he'd been rifling through her bag. "You thought you were so clever, Lana," Archer says, looking smug. "Taking my birthday present. Well I found it."

"What? What birthday present are you talking about, Archer? I didn't take anything."

"Oh really? Really." He rolls his eyes and digs into her purse again. He holds up a brown paper packet, torn open. "Oh, look at this, Lana," he says, eyes wide, feigning surprise. "Happy birthday, Archer. From Kreiger." He shakes his head. "Well it's nice to know who really appreciates me."

"Archer."

He stops at the tone of her voice and glances over at her. "What?"

"Why is it _open_?"

"Well it's a birthday present, Lana, you're supposed to open it." She stays silent, waiting for what she is sure is going to come next. "There were some pills in there so I put them in our drinks. Was I... not supposed to? Come on, Lana, they were a birthday present, it's not like they're going to be dangerous. Are you mad, Lana? Lana. Lana. Lana. LANA." 

Instead of answering, she takes the little table on her other side and throws it at his head. 

* * *

Whatever Kreiger had made was some really, _really_ strong shit, because even the next morning Lana's head is still swimming. It might have even been the morning after that. She wasn't exactly clear on how time worked. 

She wakes up, naked, in a bed with two other people in it. There were streaks of dried paint all over her body and a weird pain in her stomach. "God," she says, sitting up and putting one hand on her forehead. "What in the hell happened to us?" 

"I don't know," a weak voice says down by her feet. "But Lana, I'm dying. I think I'm actually dying." She doesn't feel capable of standing upright, so she fishes around on the floor for any of her clothes. There's nothing there, so she leans down further and reaches under the bed. There's a t-shirt there and she grabs it and pulls it on. Archer's head sticks up from a mound of covers and he stares at her with squinty eyes. "When did we go to the zoo?" 

They're interrupted by a sudden screaming. Both of them immediately reach for guns that aren't there - though Lana can see there's one on the balcony and another on top of the television set. The third body in the bed pushes out of the swaddling, blankety cocoon, one arm reaching wildly up to the ceiling. Terrence keeps screaming, his eyes red and wide. He wriggles wildly, pulsing and shaking until he tumbles out of the bed and onto the floor. He groans loudly and then vomits up something thick and orange. As soon as his stomach is emptied, he promptly passes out, his cheek sticking in the puddle of sick. 

"Is he dead?" Archer looks down at Terrence's motionless body. "I think he's dead." 

They both stared for a moment, waiting. Then, with a cough and a groan he gets onto his hands and knees. "I hate you," he says hoarsely, dragging himself across the carpet. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill both you assholes just as soon as I can stand up." He makes it into the bathroom before he passes out again. 

Archer throws off the blanket and stands up. He wobbles, looking a little shaky, but he doesn't fall. "Damn, I'm hungry. I'm going to call down for some waffles and a bloody mary - do you want anything?" 

"Are we not... going to discuss last night? At all? How about how you drugged us all? And then stole a koala? Or how about how you almost killed the man we were supposed to protect - the man, don't forget, we both woke up naked in bed with?" 

"Shh," he says, waving a hand at her. He's still bare-ass naked, and probably a hair away from toppling over. He glares at her. "I'm on the phone." 

_I would shoot him,_ Lana thinks, _I really would._ But the damn gun is too far away. 


End file.
